Rapping – PROCLAMATION TRANSFORMATION

Med cards like passports.

This flight has my eyes red.

Heights.

People ask me how I got to the top, I tell them I’m fly.

I don’t even have to try.

“Where’s my lighter?”

I prefer glass opposed to plastic, I can see right through you, like some glasses.

I never come in last son.

~~Fuck~~ a cool kid — I just stroll and walk past them.

The jock on campus.

In a group full of dope rappers.

Lames ducking our bars like limbo; this a freestyle

I call it incidental.

I pick up the pen, and aim it at your mental.

My rhymes got you feelin’ bad?

Awwwhh

Pull out my tiny violin;

Play a sad instrumental.

So far gone

I’m a tiger to these city cats — You city rat.

You can stay in the trap;

Honey to these cocaine fiends.

Running out of breath,

Close to passing out.

Intoxicated words

I keep slurring, but to be honest

Tomorrow all this will be a blurr.

2 tokes for iLLFoLK

Then I pass it left

No that ain’t right, or is it?

I can’t remember the rotation.

I’m spacing, no sleep.

Excuse my impatience.

I was taught to hustle hard,

Cause my ancestors did.

So Who else would I do it for?

Who am I?

They ask me

Golden Brown-skin, I’m a Cali baby

Watching the sunset turn skies pink

As I’m walking finding shells in the street, I’m not walking on the beach.

Ghetto birds keep me up, the waves should be singing me to sleep.

Admit it my flow is pretty damn unique

It’s pretty fucking neat

Like someone with OCD

1,2,3

Mic check 1, 2, 3

Passing by time in class line after line, sheet after sheet

Stick out my tongue and point my middle finger; like Fuck You!

Hol up let me get the other one; Fuck Everybody!

Who exactly are you?

Who wouldn’t want to be me?

Who would want to be you?

Nobody

Nobodies showing up.

Everybody

Every party got the people yelling iLLFoLK !!

-Leighrick

Too many mics and not enough MCs

These rappers are still babies to this game all they spit is gaga..shit driving me crazy

How many carrots will it take you see, guess them diamonds really blindin and the cats got more than they tongue,

cause those grills got they mouth on freeze…and these lames still swagg biting.

Still Evil wearing true religion, constantly being fake like any implant on Nicki.

My words boom like echos in a tunnel you can’t help but hear my message more than once

I Do Right And Kill Everything I can’t help that my Young Moneys growing up.

Fuck Pink Dollaz I’m trynna turn the whole world back green and blue.

I write fire so flame is after my stage name like Wocka,

And record labels still handing out deals like candy..Willy Wonka

But this paper is my factory, and these beats are my workers, no machinery I don’t fuck with auto-tune,

just stay tuned into what I’m providing you to read, knowledge is automatic

Be ready to get real

Like the I in Will I can’t help but maintain being ill.

Because I’m sick of this so called music, and allergic to their wanna be attempts at lyrics

These rappers are all my children, they’re so full or drama my words making em young n restless

These lames are driving me Ludacris, I had to stand up for what I believe in.

Got them thinking I’m crazy, this exactly why I need a doctor producing a beat behind this.

All these artist so dry now, I’m parched.

I need some juice man, where OJ?

And since all they worried about are groupies

These rappers needs some fits man, where the Gucci at?

I wanna bring up the underground not that Illuminati, I’m not a mason just amazing.

I ball, these New Boyz can’t play my position,

Ima Cool Kid bruh, the Pacific’s not they’re Division.

I know writing like this can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare ..

You can get real and join the circle or you can just stay a square.

Either way get real…cause every line is a step closer to my dreams.

-Leighrick

Tag: Rapping

All Aboard

How Many Mics?